


Beautiful Pain

by Queen_Morbid



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Drinking, Drugs, F/M, Falling In Love, Fights, Prostitution, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 06:36:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17401874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Morbid/pseuds/Queen_Morbid
Summary: The reader had been forced into the life as a sex worker, not by choice but as a last resort. She was first sold for money by an ex-boyfriend, who eventually traded her in for an ounce of speed to Ernest Darby, leader of the local Nordics. After finding out that Darby put out an attack on Gemma, the SONS retaliate but only find Y/N battered and bruised. Chibs Telford takes a specific interest in the harlot, one that could lead them down a complicated path.





	Beautiful Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Each work of mine is loosely edited, if there are mistakes, pay no mind to them. Eventually, I’ll get around to editing them, for now, I just rather post them and fix up the mistakes later on 😊

A hand was clamped firmly over her mouth trying to keep the whimpers of distress under control and out of earshot. Her legs were brought up close to her chest as she hid in the darkness of the closet. When the masses of body tore down the front door, she was quick to react and find someplace to bury herself away in. She could hear the murmurs of multiple men as they ransacked and tore the house apart in search of what, she did not know.

“He ain’t here, someone must’ve tipped him off.” A rough voice said distantly across the room.

“Food’s fresh, someone was here. Keep searchin’.” Another said.

She felt herself sink back as far as she could before her back met the wall. The smell of scrambled eggs and bacon could easily be scented, and it had been a dead give away that someone was home.

There was the continuous ruckus before shoes scuffed over the loose floorboards in front of the door of her sanctuary. Then a brief silence before the door sprang open, a scream left her lips as a bald man lunged for her, managing to grab her ankle and began dragging her out into the open.

“No, let me go!” She cried, kicking her feet and landing one quick jab to the man’s mouth, causing him to curse and reluctantly loosen his hold on her.

“Son of a bitch.” He growled before wiping the blood from his now busted lip and then proceeding to lurch after her once again.

Nails scratched along the floor as the unknown man tugged her back into the kitchen, where three other men stood gawking. A hand curled around her hair, forcefully yanking her head back and exposing her face. There lied a blackened eye and a swollen bottom lip from a beating she had received the day before.

“Who’s this bitch?” The bald-headed man said with a snarl.

Her eyes cautiously jumped from face-to-face and when she rounded up just who they were, she could feel her stomach begin to sink. The Sons of Anarchy were notorious in Charming, after all, it was their stomping grounds, their town. Four men stared her down, curious as to all hell just who this battered mess was.

A man with salt and pepper colored hair strolled forward, his sunglasses nestled on the top of his head. She had seen him around multiple times, Clay Morrow. He was the current king of all those outlaws. He carefully assessed her, only to glance over his shoulder at his stepson, the one with wild, dirty-blonde hair. “Is this Darby’s old lady?” He asked.

She knew Jax from high school, they had never spoken but he was hard to ignore. He was boyishly handsome and when you were the sole heir of SAMCRO, it was hard to go unseen in a town that was owned by them. Blue eyes found them transfixed on the marks she adorned, never finding the need to beat a woman.

Then again, he understood how testing they could be.

“Nah, Darby’s doesn’t have a wife and I went to high school with this one.” He said, pointing a ringed finger at Y/N.

“Let. Me. Go.” She gritted, trying to jerk away from the man who had his fingers entangled in her hair.

There was a silent nod from Clay and then the sweet relief as the unknown man let her go. Immediately she went to nurse the tender spot on her scalp, sending a scowl of displeasure in the tattooed man’s direction.

“Where’s Darby sweetheart?” Clay piqued from behind her.

Readjusting her head on her shoulders she would shoot him a skeptical gaze. “Hopefully in a ditch.”

“Are you his kid? Or just some sweet butt?” Clay asked.

She couldn’t help the laugh that flitted from her throat. “If Darby was my father, I would have offed myself a long time ago. Definitely ain’t sleeping with the fucker either, I just work for him.”

A man with tribal tattoos on the side of his head inclined a questionable brow in her direction before speaking. “Is he your pimp?”

Y/N stiffened at the word before managing to worm her way between the bodies of men and going to the kitchen sink where she filled up a glass with water. “More like a warden.”

As she had her back to them, the group of men could easily make out multiple bruises and scrapes across her shoulders. The tank top could only cover so much, and it couldn’t hide all of the marks from Darby’s wrath.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Clay asked.

She managed to choke down a few sips of water before she turned towards them and shrugged her shoulders. “About a week ago, I’m not allowed to leave the house until he’s back in town. Wish I could tell you more since it looks like you fine fellows want to gut him, but I’m afraid that’s all I know.”

“Ay, who’s the lass?” Came an accented voice from the front door which easily caught Y/N’s attention.

When she looked to the man at the entrance of the house, she tensed. He was a good foot taller than she was, had a scruffy beard and a pair of brown eyes that bore down into her.

“One of Darby’s sources of income. He ain’t here though, or so we are being told.” The bald man said with a snort, unable to trust anything that came out of the woman’s mouth.

“You must be blind or maybe dumb, but do you think I’d protect someone who was giving me these?” She motioned to the black eye, busted lip and the remnants of fading bruises across her arms.

“Watch your mouth little girl.” Growled the tattooed man, straightening out his posture with a curl in his upper lip.

“Alright, alright enough you two. This is the plan, you” Clay pointed towards Y/N. “Are coming with us, think of it as being held hostage, you try to run or warn Darby, I’ll have my old lady unload a bullet in your skull. Understand?” He asked.

For a succinct moment, they could all see a flash of relief in the depths of her eyes, almost as if what he had said had been a sugar-coated lie that a foolish and naïve child would fall for. Then again, Clay had meant what he said, and it had not been sugar-coated the truth had been plain as day but that didn’t change the glimmer of hope she held.

“Chibs, stay with the girl and make sure she doesn’t pull any funny shit.” Said the Alpha of the canonical group of men.

“A’right Pres.” Came the Scotsman who leaned comfortably against the door frame of the kitchen.

“Let’s go, boys, we’ll meet you back at the clubhouse,” Clay said while he glanced in the direction of his Sergeant at Arms.

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Y/N silently strolled down the hall of fame with her hands tucked into her jean pockets. Eyes carefully skimmed over each mugshot, noting the familiarity of some men but not all. She had been in the SAMCRO clubhouse for the last hour, specifically under keen surveillance by the Scotsman who wouldn’t let her out of his sight for more than five seconds.

The others hadn’t returned, and it was awfully quiet with just the two of them. She had to find some way to occupy her time, especially when the man known as Chibs wouldn’t offer her a mere conversation. Instead, he resorted to watching her with intense, russet-colored eyes. But could you blame him? She had been found living with Darby and couldn’t help but trace the intricate patterns of each marked etched into her flesh.

When she came across Chib’s mugshot she froze, allowing her index finger to ghost over his picture slowly. “What were you in for? Murder? Drugs?” She asked with her back to him.

He shifted silently along the bar stool, exhaling a grunt. “Don’t ask questions ye don’t want to know tha answers to.”

With bold movements, she turned to him with a flare in her lips. “I asked, didn’t I?”

Chibs was quick to retaliate. “What are ye doin’ with Darby? Drugs? Love? Money?”

Immediately her entire demeanor had changed, and she shrank back, almost as if Darby’s name had bothered her in a way he could not see.

“All of the above. Except, I was traded in by my ex for a dime bag to Darby who in turn solicited me for money. Any other questions you’d like to ask? Remember, don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.” She said with an expressionless face before returning to the many mugshots plastered on the wall.

A feeling similar to guilt had begun gnawing hungrily at his frayed endings. He was an outlaw, but he was also human and well aware of right and wrong. He wasn’t some pathetic young lad, he was wise and knew the hardships of life, probably better than most.

“Ah am sorry.” He sounded from across the room, his words alone had sent an electric sensation up her spine.

It had been many years since she had heard those words, but he had nothing to be sorry for, well nothing serious. Not like Darby or Andrew, or any of the other men who had used her. They were words she had been dying to hear but came to accept that she probably never would.

“Don’t be, it’s my problem, not yours.” She said softly.

There was a tightening in her throat, one she recognized all too well. It was the feeling that came when she wanted to break down but couldn’t. She had to play strong and she needed to succeed at pretending that she was, cause if she didn’t, she’d ultimately succumb to the pain stuffed down in the back of her mind.

Blinking rapidly, she would begin to fixate back on the pictures of the men before Chibs spoke. “C’mere.”

Once more she turned to face him and he was now standing straight up, leaning somewhat against the bar top. Like a dog beaten into submission, she found her legs carrying her over to him. When she stopped in front of him, she could only look down at her hands.

“Have ah drink.” He handed her a beer before taking a seat on the stool yet again.

Y/N gripped onto the bottle tightly and felt the coolness of it. Looking at him with a slight smile, she would take a seat on the stool beside him. “Thank you.”

He only nodded before he cracked open the beer and took a greedy swig.

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Another hour had passed and Y/N and Chibs were a bit buzzed, almost teetering on the line of being wasted. Somehow in the midst of their small conversations, they had managed to travel over to the pool table where they were now betting on 40$ that Y/N wouldn’t beat him.

“Ha! Yes! Hand over that money.” She laughed while swaying on her feet, a certain glow encircled her form. One that Chibs had decided to ignore at first but eventually fell in a trance due to it.

“Ye hustled me?” He chuckled while gripping onto the cue stick.

Lips curved back over straight, white teeth as she leaned somewhat across the pool table. “I had to earn money somehow back before I was a hooker. Hustling men is easy, ya’ll tend to get distracted by these.” She grabbed ahold of her breasts and gave them a quick jostle which sent them on a bouncing spree.

Chibs let out a howl of laughter, finding pure joy in her shenanigans. He also couldn’t help but look hungrily at the pair of tits concealed by a black t-shirt with a daring low cut.

He handed over the 40$ which she shook her head, refusing to accept it. “It’s okay, I was just joking. You can keep it.”

His jaw strained as he stared at her in slight bewilderment. Despite their bet and his loss, she refused to take his cash. She was a woman after his own heart. Nonetheless, he assumed she probably needed it more than he did, God knew where she would be after they handled shit with Darby.

“Ye take it hen.” He said slowly sliding it into her hand and enclosing her fingers around it with his.

It was the most a man had given her, not money wise, but meaning wise. It was 40 measly dollars, but it had sparked something in the burned-out heart of Y/N. She slowly rose on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips across Chib’s feathery cheek. “Thank you.” She whispered.

Y/N had settled back on her feet evenly, only to feel the slight grasp of his hands on her waist. It was too familiar, too many men had touched her in that way before and she refused to be touched in any way unless she asked or wanted it.

So, she detangled herself from his hold in a slow, unsteady motion. Her feet begrudgingly took her to the sofa that was planted on the other side of the room and she found herself plopping down exhaustedly.

Leaning back into the sofa, she would allow her eyes to slowly fall closed. At the end of each day, she could feel the effects of the marks left by Darby. Internally her muscles ached horribly, almost to the point that she swore she could feel the pain in the deepest parts of her bones. She always hated settling down for the night, to only be reminded of the sins she had committed.

Chibs had found his way to the sofa as well only to take a seat at the open space beside her. He didn’t bother speaking, because they could just coexist in silence, and he also didn’t know what to say to her. So, they sat there for several minutes, his gaze drifted towards her as she remained still with her eyes closed.

Suddenly though, she was leaning to the side and her head fell softly against his shoulder. Her chest rose and fell in slow, systematic movements and there was a small, very faint whistle that came from her nose, one that he assumed only happened when she was asleep.

He had never been an affectionate type of man, not even to his own daughter, but he felt like he was glued to the couch. As if his entire being was tethered to this one, specific woman. He didn’t want to wake her, he felt that she deserved to peacefully sleep, to shed the worries and stress of the dangerous life she was living.

But as he looked at her while she slept, he made a silent vow, that he would never let anyone hurt ever again.


End file.
